


My Foolish Heart

by Jeepers_Creepers



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Detective Noir, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Lawyers, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, Pre-War, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-13 07:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeepers_Creepers/pseuds/Jeepers_Creepers
Summary: In 2070's Boston, an old detective and charming public defender cross paths. A fiancée's murder changes both of their lives and as they track the elusive truth behind the cover-up, their fates become so entertwined it takes a nuclear blast to end it all.Or it would have, if they weren't the two most stubborn bastards on either side of the apocalypse.





	My Foolish Heart

Lady Luck was a mistress that had long forgotten detective Nick Valentine.

Jenny was gone. His plants were dying. Boston never seemed to stop raining.

It drummed against the windows, trailed down the brim of his hat, and reminded him of what he wanted to avoid the most. On the street below, evening traffic splashed gutter water up onto the curb.

There was nothing left for him to ruin.

“Mister Valentine?” 

He blinked, the phantom hands on his collar disappearing. One of the girls in a lab coat stood in front of him, swiping a keycard and holding the door open for him.

Betsy. That was her name. Couldn't have been old enough to drink yet.

“Doctor Louis can see you now, sir. Last door on the left.”

Nick glanced down at his hands and--considering there was nothing other than squeaky, too-small chairs in this waiting room--he decided his coffee would have to come with him.

A year ago, he would have stifled the grunt getting up required, but hell, what could she say? What could anyone say these days? “Lookin’ rough there, eh, Nicky?” Yeah, thanks, asshole. I haven't slept in two weeks and every shadow jumps me outta my skin. They could buzz off.

So he grunted when the knife stabbed at his lousy knee, so what? He was an old, washed up man. Miss Betsy knew that from looking at his file.

She kept her chipper smile, waving goodbye when he made it to the hallway, letting the heavy metal door close between them. Couldn't have some ne’er-do-wells trashing the research department's fancy vials and drugs and computers for kicks.

He continued on, already hearing how he was going to be chewed out for being so late. It had taken an hour and a half just to convince himself to get out of bed and another forty-five minutes to drag himself away from the rain trailing down the window panes and the empty mug that he just couldn't seem to fill. Not with coffee and sure as hell not with the caffeine free himalayan mint black tea haunting his countertop.

The doc wouldn't care. He didn't see any other cops letting them hotwire his brain, so as far as he was concerned they were still getting a free guinea pig. His nightmares had only gotten worse since they put him on the new pills, anyway. More lifelike.

Jennifer’s warm blood on his hands, Marlene's...No. He couldn't even go there. They let that nutjob Winter off and the nightmares morphed; now it was her where Jenny had been, curled into a ball with an arm outstretched towards him. For help. _Help me, Valentine._

Nick couldn't stand hearing her voice. Every syllable struck him like icy rain on the spine. When her corpse spoke it always startled him awake. Help? All he ever did was drag her into more trouble.

He stopped at the end of the hall, ignoring his haggard reflection in the glass. He watched the spark and catch of the flame instead, the satisfying, deep puff of smoke that filled and then escaped his lungs. Today was supposed to be a big day.

Valentine wasn't fool enough to think that hadn't helped his cold feet, either. Scanning his brain with some new device? Something he had to sign three different waivers for? Flipping through it, none of the words that that stuck out to him were good. Changes in mood or behavior, trouble sleeping, confusion, headaches lasting more than 72 hours.

Nick never would have imagined it would have been the one thing to give him a second chance.

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly late Valentine's Day post! I've wanted a noir-ish detective love story/murder mystery for Valentine and my SS for a long while, and figured today would be the perfect one to start.
> 
> Please let me know what you think & thanks for reading! <3


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